Issue 312
November 12, 2004
v
Law students take on the Mafia by Tamsin Smith
v
Guantanamo Bay Justice: 3 Hours Behind Closed Doors by Richard A. Serrano
v
Sudanese Rape Victims Find Justice Blind to Plight by
Emily Wax
v
Iraqis Not Ready For Trials; U.N. to Withhold Training
by Marlise Simons
v
Mistakes, mistrust pervade terror trial by Richard
Serrano and Greg Miller
v
On Trial:
Disorder in a Kangaroo Court by Rod Mickleburgh
The following article appeared on bbc.co.uk on November
6, 2004:
Law
students take on the Mafia
By Tamsin
Smith
BBC News,
Rome
A university
lecture hall packed full before 11am is a rare sight.
But law
students taking part in Italy's first Mafia studies course at Rome University
fill the aisles and stairways.
"Can
you believe it - 500 students have enrolled," says a surprised Professor
Mario Trapani, one of the course directors at Rome University's law faculty.
"We
never expected this many applications. This course is really the first of its
kind in Italy."
A high
profile panel of experts provide the first lesson.
The students
listen, captivated, as a leading Sicilian magistrate from Palermo recounts
gruesome details of how a Cosa Nostra Mafia boss disposed of one unfortunate
teenager.
A global
cartel
But the
teaching goes far beyond Godfather stereotypes.
It sets out
to explore and explain the very roots of organised crime and the complex web of
economic, social and political factors that nourish Italy's most notorious
criminal network.
I know I am part of a future generation that
can fight this. I want to
work as an anti-Mafia lawyer even though
it's a tough life choice.
Martina, 21
Mafia studies student
"There
simply isn't enough knowledge about how the Mafia is structured and how it
operates. Only people who see it in action really know," says Doctor
Pierluigi Vigna, Italy's chief anti-Mafia prosecutor.
"We
will use real legal cases to discuss and explain the issues because this is one
of Italy's most real problems.
"By
bringing this knowledge into the university, we are also hoping that new ideas
will be generated to help tackle Mafia."
Students
will learn about the very different types of Mafia networks that exist in
Italy: the Cosa Nostra in Sicily, La Camorra in Campania, La Sacra Corona Unita
in Puglia and the Ndrangheta in Calabria - which investigators say is now the
most powerful.
They will
also examine involvement with Russian, Chinese and Albanian mafia gangs.
"The
problem with the Italian Mafia today is that it's like any good business the most of globalisation and transnational
mergers," says Senator Roberto Centaro, president of the Italian
parliament's anti-Mafia commission.
"Even
though we have made huge progress in our fight against it, the problem is that
it is so engrained it is preventing healthy economic growth."
Understanding
the mafia
In the
university hall there are no yawns or early exits, just applause at the end of
every lecture.
"This
is a great chance to learn more about the Mafia," says Alberto, a law
student. "I find it really interesting."
Many
students choose to study the course because of strong personal convictions.
"My
father lived and worked in Calabria in the south of Italy and I saw how the
Mafia affected every aspect of his life, from buying a car to renting a
house," says 23-year-old Alessandro.
"Understanding
the Mafia is the best way to understand Italy and taking part in this course is
like paying a tribute to my country and its problems."
Petra, from
Sicily, feels the same way.
"We
talk a lot about Mafia at home but I think people need to know more," says
Petra, who is not sure that she actually wants a career fighting the Mafia.
"I want
to become a lawyer but not an anti-mafia lawyer because it's too
dangerous."
Martina, 21,
disagrees: "I know I am part of the future generation of important people
who can fight this. I definitely want to work as an anti-Mafia lawyer even
though it's a tough life choice."
The Mafia has
inspired books, films and music but now there are high hopes that the first
course in Mafia studies will inspire a new generation of committed lawmakers.
"This
course signals the start of better understanding of how we legislate against
the Mafia," says Senator Centaro, pointing at the packed lecture hall.
"And
these young people are the lawyers, judges, policemen and women of the future.
We are looking to them."
* * * * *
The
following article appeared on latimes.com on November 7, 2004:
Guantanamo
Bay Justice: 3 Hours Behind Closed
Doors
By Richard
A. Serrano, Times Staff Writer
WASHINGTON - On hardback chairs, their
hands shackled and the chains bolted to the floor, the detainees are given this
one chance to prove their innocence. Some have already been at the U.S. prison
camp in Cuba for nearly three years, and some are visibly fearful in this small
room crowded with military authorities. Others are angry and defiant.
Musab Omar Ali Al Mudwani, an alleged Al
Qaeda fighter trained in Afghanistan, was almost begging, records show. Please,
he told the military officials, "look at the evidence with fairness."
Saeed Ahmed Al-Sarim, captured in the
fighting around Tora Bora, asked repeatedly why the military justice system was
"closed and silenced." He asked, "Are there going to be lawyers?
Are we going to be able to contact our families?" Then he sighed in
resignation. "Nothing is going to change," he said.
And Ali Husayn Abdullah Al Tays, who
once stayed at an Afghan safe house frequented by Osama bin Laden, lashed out
at his captors. "Why are you Americans asking me about this?" he
shouted. "Why is it your business? Tell me what business it is of the
Americans."
In the last three months military officials
at the U.S. naval base at Guantanamo Bay, home to the prison known as Camp
Delta, have been conducting three-hour Combatant Status Review Tribunals. The
tribunals began July 30 after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that detainees could
not be held indefinitely and that they had a right to some form of legal
process.
Each prisoner now gets a hearing, one
chance to convince the American authorities that they should not remain in
custody as enemy combatants - the classification assigned to them when they
were originally scooped off the battlefields of Central Asia.
"We think this is a professional
process. It's very rigorous. It's fair," said Navy Capt. Beci Brenton, a
Pentagon spokeswoman. "We take extra steps to make sure the detainees understand
the process, and they are given a good opportunity to speak for
themselves."
The Process
Debated
Critics are unconvinced. They note that
only one of the 104 tribunal verdicts has resulted in a prisoner going home.
They also say that the hearings are a mere formality, forced upon the Pentagon,
and that they mock the U.S. justice system because detainees are not allowed
attorneys and rarely can put on evidence or offer the testimony of witnesses in
their defense.
"The process is basically a
sham," said Washington lawyer Thomas Wilner, who has been working to free
12 Kuwaiti detainees.
Eugene R. Fidell, president of the
Washington-based National Institute of Military Justice, said the tribunals
should have been held in Afghanistan and Pakistan when the detainees were first
captured, and evidence and witnesses were still fresh.
"These are not a meaningful
substitute for the competent tribunals required under the Geneva
Conventions," he said.
And Fidell scoffed that all but one
verdict has gone against the detainees. "That's a great batting average,
isn't it? They're pitching a nearly perfect game."
In recent weeks documents have begun
surfacing in U.S. District Court in Washington, and other Pentagon materials
have been obtained by The Times, that for the first time show how justice is
being meted out in those small hearing rooms in Cuba, where about 550 people
are detained.
The Times was able to review the cases
of 47 detainees, along with transcripts of the tribunals, written statements
from the prisoners and letters of support from family members insisting their
loved ones are innocent. Access to the actual hearings was severely limited by
the Pentagon; reporters did not have free access to the hearing rooms and could
not learn either the name of the detainee or the full charges against him.
As a result, the hearings have received
almost no news coverage.
Even critics concede that the tribunals
must grapple with a difficult issue: At least some of the Guantanamo detainees
are probably innocent, but it also seems likely that some remain potential
threats to Americans. Before the tribunals began, some detainees who were
released took up arms against U.S. forces again.
What critics charge, however, is that
the tribunal system as it is now being implemented does not give detainees
adequate resources to defend themselves.
In the hearings, the government almost
always presents evidence to suggest the detainees had direct ties to Al Qaeda,
that they were trained in terrorist camps in Afghanistan and that many were
captured during the war to defeat the Taliban waged after the Sept. 11
terrorist attacks in America.
One man was deemed a close associate of
a known suicide bomber. Another was captured with the cellphone number
belonging to Abu Zubeida, an Al Qaeda operations chief and top aide to Bin
Laden.
Some are listed as Bin Laden bodyguards.
One reportedly was with the Al Qaeda leader shortly before he disappeared into
the caves of Tora Bora.
Another, Mamdouh Ibrahim Ahmed Habib,
allegedly told U.S. interrogators that he helped train "several of the 11
September 2001 hijackers in martial arts and had planned to hijack a
plane" himself.
Despite the gravity of such charges,
there is a sense in the documents that the prisoners have few resources for
attempting to disprove them.
For one thing, detainees are permitted
to request testimony from witnesses that might help them, but the documents
show such requests often are turned down as "irrelevant." Also,
evidence that might exonerate detainees, such as hospital records and visa and
passport materials, often cannot be found by U.S. authorities or are ruled
inadmissible.
Redouane Khalid, for example, is a French citizen captured after he
allegedly spent summer 2001 in a safe house in a neighborhood of Kabul,
Afghanistan, known as "Taliban- and Al Qaeda-occupied territory."
Of five witnesses that Khalid wanted to
call, only one was deemed "available." The remaining four were fellow
prisoners who earlier had been returned to France.
Khalid next asked that his passport,
visa and a return airline ticket from Afghanistan to London he carried at the
time of his capture be presented in his defense - presumably to bolster a
contention that he had not planned to stay in Afghanistan and fight. Tribunal
authorities, however, simply noted that "a search was conducted for these
items on Guantanamo Bay but they could not be located."
The files also contain letters from
family members attesting that their loved ones are not terrorists and pleading
for their release. But there is no indication the messages were taken seriously
by the tribunals, each composed of three military officers.
The family of Adnan Farhan Abdul Latif,
a Yemeni picked up in Pakistan, said he was injured in a 1994 accident that
left him with a fractured skull, the loss of one eye and no hearing in one ear.
They said they had received maybe a dozen short letters from him since his
capture, and that in one he described Guantanamo as "my island of
hell."
The brother of Al-Sarim, who now is
resigned to the prospect that "nothing is going to change" for him in
prison, wrote that the detainee's 4-year-old daughter "waits everyday by
the door" for him to come home.
Claims of
Abuse
The panels also seem to give little or
no credence to complaints from detainees that they have been tortured by U.S.
intelligence forces and prison guards.
Yasin Qasem Muhammad Ismail, a Yemeni
who reportedly was by Bin Laden's side when the terrorism chief eluded capture,
said that "whenever we spoke to the interrogators we were punished."
He added, "We were hit and tortured.
Not only did I get hit and punched, they broke my nose. The Americans did this
to me. When I arrived in Cuba I got hit in the place where we eat. I got hit on
the shoulder and it was very painful. It was dislocated or something. They
threatened to break it monthly even when I got to Cuba. They told me I would be
here for a long time."
But Ismail knew the panel did not
believe him. "This tribunal is not a legal proceeding," he said to
them. "It is a military proceeding. It doesn't matter what I say. It's
military, and there are no judges."
Al-Sarim was frightened that he might be
placed in a special cellblock where he'd be hurt.
"My emotional state right now - I'm
nervous," he told the panel. "Being in prison, you can't say everything
you want to say.. And I'm telling you, I'm talking to you right now and I'm
scared that you might take me to Romeo Block or any of the other blocks you
take people to."
A tribunal member interjected,
"That is not our purpose here. Our purpose here is to get to the
truth."
Al-Sarim told him, "That is the
truth."
But the military did give great weight
to worries that many prisoners are still threats to the United States and its
allies.
Salman Yahya Hassan Mohammed Rabeil was
captured with other squad members from the Al Farouq terrorist training camp in
Afghanistan. Documents show that in interrogations by U.S. intelligence
officers, he "advised" them he still meant to hurt America.
Yet in his statement to the tribunal,
Rabeil denied it. "This is absolutely false. It is outrageous. I never
said such a thing as I would harm or threaten the United States," he said.
Like most of the rest, he was labeled an
enemy combatant and returned to his cell.
The sole detainee who was released won his freedom in September,
documents show. He had participated in a jihad in Afghanistan and had undergone
paramilitary training there. While returning to Pakistan he was captured by
Northern Alliance forces "after fleeing from helicopter gunfire."
But what was his name, and why was he
alone judged not to be an enemy combatant after all? The Pentagon would not
say.
* * * * *
The
following article appeared on washingtonpost.com on November 8, 2004:
Sudanese
Rape Victims Find Justice Blind to Plight
By Emily Wax
Washington
Post Foreign Service
OTASH, Sudan
-- The breeze ruffled Katuma Abdullah Adam's green scarf as the sheik and his
helpers slowly poured water over her head. Once, twice, three times they
repeated the ritual as the pregnant 15-year-old wept in shame.
"You
can now enter paradise," the sheik said, ushering Katuma inside a dark hut
so her swollen body could also be washed, along with her nose and mouth, as a
symbolic cleansing of the sin she had suffered.
To the
family of Katuma, who was raped and impregnated by an Arab militia fighter five
months ago in the war-torn region of Darfur, this shamanistic cure was the only
form of redemption available in a situation where legal justice is elusive,
officials are embarrassed to discuss rape and the chances of catching and
prosecuting attackers are next to none.
While a
ritual bath cannot substitute for a court of law, according to Sudanese culture
it may help mitigate the negative long-term social effects of rape -- the
public ostracism of the victim, her devaluation as a future bride and the
lifelong stigma that will fall on any child born of the crime.
According to
the United Nations and human rights groups, thousands of women have been raped
by gunmen in the course of a 20-month conflict that pits African rebel groups
against Sudanese troops and pro-government Arab militias known as the
Janjaweed. The United Nations says more than 70,000 people have died.
In August
and September, the French medical charity Doctors Without Borders reported that
it had treated 123 cases of rape in South Darfur, at least 100 of which
occurred during attacks on villages by armed men. Victims said they were
assaulted at gunpoint and in some cases gang-raped.
Despite
widespread documentation of the rapes by international groups and promises by
the government to investigate and prosecute rape cases, sexual violence remains
a low official priority. Sudanese society ostracizes rape victims and
associates them with deep shame.
There is
also little public trust in the police and the courts, because Janjaweed
militiamen accused of the crimes are seen as backed by the government.
A recent
report by Amnesty International, the London-based human rights group, called
rape "a weapon of war in Darfur," often accompanied by racial
insults, whipping, undressing and public sexual acts as a form of humiliation.
To the Arab Janjaweed, attacking African women is seen as a way to mortify
African rebel groups, the report said.
Many women
have also reported being told by rapists that they wanted to produce Arab
babies and weaken African tribal lines.
Amnesty
International documented hundreds of rape cases and described the horrific
long-term social consequences for the women. But U.N. officials and others said
international pressure had done little to make local officials address the
plight of women who are victims of rape, as well as resulting health problems
and pregnancies.
"The
government as a whole is in denial about the scale and the severity of the
problems," said Louise Arbour, the U.N. high commissioner for human
rights, who visited Darfur in late September. "Cases where attempts are
made by women to report to the police are disbelieved, or in any event, no further
action is taken on their report."
On a recent
trip to South Darfur, U.S. Reps. Jesse L. Jackson Jr. (D-Ill.) and Jim Kolbe
(R-Ariz.) visited camps in the region and were told they would see a "rape
tent," where victims could report the crimes. When they arrived at the
designated camp, however, there was no such tent. Refugees said there never had
been one.
Jackson
shook his head and said: "These guys are professional sugarcoaters. What
are we going
to do about this?"
Abdullal Abu
Bakar, who works for the government and runs the camp, winked conspiratorially
and laughed, partly from embarrassment. "There was not a single case, I
tell you," he said. "That's why we closed the tent.' "
Innocence
Lost
Katuma Adam
still sees the men in her nightmares. It was late May, the height of the rainy
season, when the Janjaweed gunmen attacked her village in North Darfur. One of
them grabbed her. His hand slipped under her dress.
"He
pushed into me and it was hurting me very much," she recounted recently, after
the ritual washing in a shelter built of sticks and rags, inside a camp for
victims of violence in Darfur. "I had no strength. I just shut my
eyes."
Afterward,
she said, she was covered in blood and crying. "I felt very, very thirsty
and in shock." She was not yet 15.
There was
nowhere Katuma could turn for help -- no counseling services, no legal aid
offices, no sympathetic law enforcement agency. Darfur, a region engulfed by
human crisis and flooded with refugees, barely has a functioning police force
or justice system.
For weeks
after the attack, Katuma remained sequestered in her hut, her head pillowed on
a pile of rocks. She stayed inside even through the thick afternoon heat, too
ashamed to emerge and seek shade under a tree like others in the camp.
She said her
legs felt like stone and her mind was numb with depression. She worried
constantly about her child's future, and her own.
"I will
never find love," she said after the cleansing ceremony. "Will this
washing help me find a husband?" Katuma and her mother, Aisha Bakhet Adam,
consented to be identified by name.
Aisha Adam,
43, a sturdy widow with six children, has no time for melancholy musings. She
is on a mission. Every day, she listens to radio reports about the war. She
knows that many people have died and many more have been displaced. And she
knows that in four months, her daughter will give birth to a child of the
Janjaweed.
Aisha Adam
has few illusions about the chances of proving the rapist's guilt. What she
needs is evidence of her daughter's innocence, a way to convince potential
suitors and their families that she did not ask to be raped. A police report or
a court case would be ideal, she said, but she had no idea how to approach the
government.
After
thinking it over, she decided the water ritual might help reduce her daughter's
shame and protect her unborn child from becoming a social outcast.
So on a
recent day, the mother crawled out of her waist-high hut, doffed an orange head
scarf and oversize sunglasses and trudged purposefully along the footpaths of
this garbage-strewn camp until she found Adam Abdul Karim, a local sheik,
waiting in a food line. She told him she needed his help.
"I
don't think the government will ever catch this man, and I don't think my daughter
will ever mend her heart unless we do something now," she told him.
"I am very ashamed, [but] I am trying to hide my embarrassment and help my
daughter. Right now, we are alone with this problem."
Karim
consulted a sheaf of ragged notes and suggested he perform the ritual washing.
It was a custom normally applied in local African tribes when a woman's husband
died or she gave birth to a child out of wedlock. This would be the first time
at this camp, Karim said, that it would be used to exonerate a victim of sexual
violence.
"She is
unclean, touched by her enemy," he said. "This is one option we can
try."
Officials
See No Evil
The
government of Sudan says it takes rape seriously, and its officials say they
are making a sincere effort to address the problem. Under sharia, or Islamic
law, rape is viewed as a serious crime; the penalty is 10 years in jail and 100
lashes.
Recently,
the government also suspended a law requiring women to report a rape to the
police before they can receive medical help. Nevertheless, there remains a
widespread belief among senior officials that the victims are fabricating their
stories.
"That
is not our culture," said Hussein Ibrahim, a minister with the
government's Humanitarian Affairs Commission. "It's just impossible and
all half-truths. Okay, maybe there are one case or two cases, like anywhere,
like in the United States or Britain. But they are not widespread."
But medical
workers and human rights activists said they have been dismayed and angered by
official suggestions that rape victims are making up sensational stories. Even
as children are being born from militia rapes, they said, not a single arrest
has been made or a single case brought to court since the war began.
"I
don't think it's fair to say the women are fabricating this," Arbour said
during a recent visit to Khartoum, the capital. "I would find it very,
very bizarre that the women would lie, considering the shame they receive for
saying they are raped. There are very severe levels of sexual violence here
that are not being properly addressed."
Arbour said
she saw no evidence of a government rape-inquiry commission that had been
promised, and that despite making appointments, she was unable to locate anyone
from the commission.
Inside Katuma's
hut, the sheik's female helpers washed her back, her face, her nostrils, her
mouth. They emptied pitchers down her left side, then her right. Water dripped
from her entire body and tears ran down her cheeks. She stood in a muddy pool
of water.
"I don't
want this," the pregnant girl mumbled. "I want to lie down."
Already shy, she dreaded being stared at, having people know. She did not want
her picture taken, did not want to go outdoors, and said she might just remain
in the camp forever.
Outside, a
cluster of ragged children peered through holes in the straw walls, dying of
curiosity. They pressed in so hard they nearly knocked over her hut.
In the
gloom, Karim supervised the work and nodded in satisfaction. But still, he
said, Katuma's life would be hard.
"The
man will want a virgin wife without a baby first," he explained.
"Maybe, years from now, people will understand she was hurt in war by the
enemy and is now clean. But it would be better if the courts and the government
could . . . set an example that it was okay and it wasn't the fault of the
women. Even a few arrests would help."
* * * * *
The
following article appeared on nytimes.com on October 22, 2004:
Iraqis
Not Ready for Trials; U.N. to Withhold Training
By Marlise
Simons
LONDON, Oct.
18 - A weeklong training session for the Iraqi judges and prosecutors chosen to
try Saddam Hussein and his top associates ended in London on Monday with both
the Iraqis and their Western advisers agreeing on one thing: The Iraqis are
unprepared to tackle full-fledged trials any time soon.
It was
equally troubling to many participants that despite invitations to top lawyers
and judges from the United Nations war crimes tribunal in The Hague to join the
sessions, the United Nations secretary general, Kofi Annan, barred their
participation and raised concerns about the tribunal in general.
A letter
from Mr. Annan's office expressed "serious doubts" that the Iraqi
Special Tribunal could meet "relevant international standards." It
reiterated his view that the United Nations should not assist national courts
that can order the death penalty and said that the organization had no legal
mandate to assist the tribunal.
The two
developments suggest that despite assertions by the interim Iraqi prime minister,
Ayad Allawi, that the trials would begin as early as November, the likelihood
of an early start seems remote. American officials here said that some pretrial
hearings might take place in December.
The London
training session was organized by American lawyers who work with the Iraqi
investigators and judges in Baghdad, assisting them in setting up courtrooms
and preparing trials. Britain also lent its support, with England's chief
justice, Lord Woolf, and a leading human rights lawyer, Judge Geoffrey
Robertson, among those addressing the group.
The event
was not publicized because of security concerns for the 42 Iraqis - almost the
entire Iraqi Special Tribunal - who returned home on Monday. Organizers granted
a reporter access to the gathering on condition that any article appear after
the Iraqis had arrived home.
Gabrielle
Kirk McDonald, an American who served both as judge and president of the
tribunal in The Hague until 1999, said she had come because she felt a duty to
help. She called the hands-off order from the United Nations "a
travesty," saying, "This is about judges helping judges, this is not
about politics."
But some
human rights lawyers agree with Mr. Annan. Richard Dicker, a director of Human
Rights Watch, said by telephone that there were still "glaring human
rights shortcomings" in the statute of the Iraqi tribunal.
For example,
confessions obtained through coercion would be admissible as evidence.
"In a
fair trial, the accused's rights must be respected," Mr. Dicker said,
adding, "The first group of accused, including Saddam Hussein, had no
access to defense lawyers when they were interrogated nor when they were
brought to court on July 1."
At the
London meetings, several Western experts said the Iraqis appeared well-informed
about their national laws but were unacquainted with the complexities of
international law used to deal with mass killing and genocide.
The Iraqi
judges themselves, in numerous conversations, concurred. Some said they had
little grasp of what one called "this whole new body of law."
"This
has been very beneficial because these crimes are very new to Iraqi
judges," said Raid Juhi al-Saadi, 35, the youngest lawyer here, who became
famous when he presided at Saddam Hussein's arraignment on July 1. "We
would like more international expertise to assist us," he said. "The
literature available to us in Arabic is very limited."
The American
organizers of the event said that because of strict security rules the names of
other judges could not be revealed. But in private they were willing to discuss
their concerns.
Judges and
prosecutors repeatedly said they wanted more practical training and asked for
more material, including samples of investigations and key rulings from The
Hague, translated into Arabic.
In one
conversation, three judges, who had long careers as military and civilian
lawyers, talked about feeling caught between international public opinion and
the opinion of Iraqis. They want experienced judges from other nations to sit
on the bench with them but fear that many Iraqis will see this as humiliating.
"The public will say that outsiders are deciding the process," one of
the judges said.
Several
participants said that involving other countries, and preferably the United
Nations, would provide greater legitimacy to the tribunal. "It would stop
the impression that the whole thing is run by Americans," said one
prosecutor.
Supporters
of Saddam Hussein and Arab media, he added, "are regularly attacking us on
this."
The model
for the Iraqi tribunal, conceived in Washington, is to have Iraqi-led trials
with American support and foreign advisers. But human rights groups had urged
Washington to create a mixed model with international, even United Nations-approved,
judges from the start.
There were
lively discussions here about Iraq's death penalty, because the judges were
aware that the United Nations and many European countries have said they had
problems helping a tribunal that could impose capital punishment.
"I
myself would rather see Saddam go to jail for many years so that future
generations can see this," said one Baghdad prosecutor, speaking through a
translator. "But we cannot suddenly abolish the death sentence now. The
people would be outraged."
The judges
and prosecutors grappled with the notion of plea-bargaining, a concept that was
foreign to them.
After one
session, Joanna Korner from Britain, a former senior prosecutor at the war
crimes tribunal in The Hague, said she was pleased because "I actually
managed to get my judges to understand there is more than one crime against
humanity." She was describing the crimes that involve systematic and
widespread attacks against a civilian population, which include murder,
persecution, mass rape, torture and deportation.
Another
workshop dealt with the protection of witnesses, both for the prosecution and
the defense, clearly an enormous challenge if trials begin in Iraq while the
violence continues.
A longtime
strategy for the Iraqi Special Tribunal was proposed by Pierre-Richard Prosper,
the United States ambassador for war crimes issues, in a closing address. He
urged the group to focus on the leadership and send midlevel suspects to
ordinary courts in order to lighten their own case load. He also suggested
creating a truth commission
allowing
victims to speak. "Victims badly need to be heard," he said. He told
the judges to communicate with the public. "Let the Iraqi people know what
you are doing," he said, "and make the public your allies."
Judge Kirk
McDonald offered some solace to the group, some of whom seemed awed by the
tasks ahead. "Ten years ago, we were exactly where you were, starting a
tribunal, with no experience," she said. "You'll design your own
court as you want it. My advice is: Transparency, transparency,
transparency."
* * * * *
The
following article appeared on boston.com on October 17, 2004:
Mistakes,
mistrust pervade terror trial
Convictions
tossed in Detroit case
By Richard
Serrano and Greg Miller, Los Angeles Times
DETROIT --
When federal agents went through the apartment door before sunrise on Sept. 17,
2001, Glock automatics at the ready, what they found caused government
officials all the way to the top of the Justice Department to snap to attention.
Less than a
week after Islamic extremists attacked the World Trade Center and the Pentagon,
here were three North African Muslim men caught in an unfurnished apartment
with airport security passes, forged passports, videotapes of American landmarks,
and a crude sketch labeled ''American base in Turkey" in Arabic.
They also
had virulent jihadist tapes, including a rant against Christians and Jews that
said: ''Allah, kill them all. Don't keep any of them alive."
US Attorney
General John Ashcroft proclaimed the breakup of a dangerous terrorist cell.
Less than two years later, Detroit yielded the first trials and convictions of
alleged terrorists in the United States after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.
But the
seemingly brilliant prosecution soon imploded. Today, the terrorism convictions
have been dismissed because the government withheld evidence that could have
helped the defense. The US Justice Department is investigating its chief
prosecutor in the case, Richard G. Convertino. He is suing the department.
The waters
are so muddied that it might never be known whether the defendants actually
were involved in terrorism.
The Detroit
case also laid bare a problem in the government's basic strategy. To forestall
attacks, officials have adopted the domestic equivalent of President Bush's
doctrine of preemptive action. But prosecuting suspects before they strike
forces investigators into the murky world of intent.
Evidence can
be ambiguous, solid testimony scarce. It is up to prosecutors to distinguish
between terrorists and hapless immigrants with phony papers.
''There's an
expression that you sometimes fall in love with your case," said Keith
Corbett, Convertino's trial partner. ''There was just so much emphasis in
trying to address the war on terror."
The problems
grow when officials are fighting with one another. And the Detroit case was
rife with animosity. To Convertino, politically motivated officials in
Washington, D.C., had a vendetta against him. To the Justice Department,
Convertino was an overzealous prosecutor who ignored defendants' rights.
US District
Judge Gerald E. Rosen, who handled the case, warned that the war against
terrorism is never an excuse for trampling on the Constitution.
''Unfortunately,"
he added, ''that is precisely what has occurred in the course of this
case."
When federal
agents went to the two-story duplex south of downtown Detroit, they were
seeking Nabil al-Marabh, No. 27 on a terrorist watch-list. Instead they found
three immigrants from North Africa.
Karim
Koubriti answered the door and said Marabh had moved out. Koubriti, Ahmed
Hannan, and Farouk Ali-Haimoud were arrested, and others followed. Youssef Hmimssa, whose photo had been
found in the apartment, was picked up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Another associate,
Abdel-Ilah Elmardoudi, was grabbed off a bus in North Carolina carrying
fraudulent documents and $90,000 in cash.
The
suspects, in their 20s and 30s, were charged with providing material support or
resources to terrorists -- all but Hmimssa, who became the prosecutors' star
witness.
Convertino
came to believe that the defendants were scouts for terrorists. He said evidence suggested that Ali-Haimoud
had planned to send money and weapons to ''the brothers in Algeria" and
that Hannan had memorized the layout of the US Embassy in Amman, Jordan. There
were indications that Elmardoudi had gone to Turkey using aliases.
With the
case in the national spotlight, Washington's terrorism task force, led by Barry
Sabin, was soon immersed in the activities of Convertino's team. According to
the prosecutor, demands from Washington came almost daily.
With the
trials just weeks away, Sabin decided the indictment needed reworking. He
ordered prosecutors to clear their calendars for a meeting. When he arrived,
the atmosphere grew testy. After Sabin asked where prosecutors had gotten the
legal reasoning in one part of the indictment, Convertino lost it.
A
high-ranking Justice Department official said Convertino ''ignored things he
was told to do by us."
''He really,
really, really wanted to have a piece of 9/11," the official said. ''He
wanted to be the hero."
The trial
began March 27, 2003.
On June 3,
2003, Elmardoudi and Koubriti were convicted of terrorism-related charges, as
well as identification fraud. Hannan was acquitted of charges linked to
terrorism but convicted of ID fraud.
Ali-Haimoud was acquitted on all counts.
Publicly,
Convertino's bosses in Detroit and Washington hailed the verdicts, but a month
later Convertino and Corbett were summoned to separate meetings with the US
attorney in Detroit, Jeffrey Collins.
Corbett
expected a pat on the back but emerged red-faced. With Convertino, Collins
started out praising the closing argument, then got to the point. As Convertino described it, Collins said,
''I've been ordered to reprimand you" for not cooperating with Washington.
In late
summer, Convertino got a call from an aide to Senator Charles E. Grassley,
Republican of Iowa and chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, asking
Convertino to testify about identity fraud.
Alarms went
off at the Justice Department. Grassley was a fierce critic of the department
and an ardent protector of whistle-blowers. The day after telling his boss
about the Grassley invitation, Convertino said, he was taken off the terrorism
case.
When
Grassley found out, he contacted Ashcroft, decrying the alleged retaliation.
Then Grassley subpoenaed Convertino to appear before his committee.
Convertino
said he did not criticize Washington when he testified, but he already was seen
as ''off the reservation."
Within days,
Collins had assigned three lawyers to review Convertino's cases dating to the
mid-1990s. The terrorism case was reassigned to Assistant US Attorney Eric
Straus.
Convertino got
a copy of the inmate's letter more than a year before trial. But he and Corbett
chose to view the prisoner as trolling for a deal. He was not credible, they
decided, and they did not give his letter to the defense.
When Straus
saw the letter after the trial, he told his bosses and lawyers for the
defendants. They sought a new trial. Outraged, the judge ordered a hearing to
sort out the matter.
The inmate
refused to talk. Hmimssa acknowledged talking to the prisoner -- ''We played
chess, we exchanged books" -- but denied telling his cellmate he had lied
to the FBI or other authorities.
Alan
Gershel, head of the criminal division in Detroit, told the judge he had
ordered the letter handed over before the trial ended. But Corbett and
Convertino said they never got such an order.
In February,
Ashcroft appointed a Cleveland prosecutor, Craig Morford, to investigate
whether other potentially exculpatory evidence had been withheld. Morford
reported a pattern of prosecutorial misconduct.
Convertino
disputes many of Morford's findings.
''This is
retaliation; it's an absolute shame what they're doing," Convertino said.
''It's more important to destroy me and destroy the case than it is to fight
the war on terrorism."
Last month,
three days after getting Morford's report, the judge dismissed the
terrorism-related convictions and ordered new trials on the ID fraud
convictions. Defense lawyers hope the remaining charges will be dropped.
* * * * *
The
following article appeared on theglobeandmail.com on October 23, 2004:
ON
TRIAL: DISORDER IN A KANGAROO COURT
By Rod
Mickleburgh
BEIJING --
Judge Number Two was asleep. The policeman at the back had his eyes closed. But
no one was nodding off in the public gallery at the Beijing No. 2 Intermediate
People's Court, where Zhou Juan's gaze was riveted on her handcuffed husband.
After nine
months in custody, Zhao Xiangchun was finally getting his few minutes in court.
On a chair
in the middle of the room, with the more wide-awake head judge staring down at
him, Mr. Zhao did not look confident. As he answered questions from a plodding
prosecutor who seemed barely old enough to drink, his wife gripped the rail in
front of her.
Mr. Zhao was one of 11 alleged members of a car-theft ring. Not so long ago, the pilfering might have involved nothing more valuable than Flying Pigeon bicycles. In today's Beijing, it's cars, feeding on automobile fever in a city that registers 800